


Thanksgiving

by Deathraptor22



Series: Told That Devil To Take You Back [9]
Category: Supernatural, Wynonna Earp - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi, Other, Relationship Issues, Thanksgiving, Wishbones, holiday drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathraptor22/pseuds/Deathraptor22
Summary: When Sam and Waverly spring unexpected holiday plans on Wynonna, things don't exactly go to plan. When Sam gets attack, can Wynonna rally the troops to save him in time?  Meanwhile at the bunker, a new friend's gesture leads to what may be the world's most effective wishbone.
Relationships: Hints Of Dean Winchester/ Bella Talbot, Hints of Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp/Sam Winchester
Series: Told That Devil To Take You Back [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1036526
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	1. Thanksgiving Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I still own nothing.

Sam was in the kitchen, staring at the raw bird carcass in front of him like it was his enemy. How hard can it be to cook one turkey? He though, looking at the directions again.  
Of course, the battle ensuing in the living room was more than a bit distraction.  
“This is my house, I am the one doing the decorating!” Waverly insisted, taking the spaceship surrounded by fall leaves off the table, and putting a pumpkin painted red with gold poke-dots in its place, arranging matching decorative flowers.  
“Is your name on the deed?” Charlie asked, trying take the centerpiece off and replace it with her own.  
“No.” Waverly admitted, stopping Charlie from removing the pumpkin, “But it’s my family’s house, which means I should be the one who gets to decorate and what do spaceships have to do with Thanksgiving anyhow?!”  
“Because every year BBC does a Thanksgiving Star Trek Marathon.” Charlie reasoned.  
“Well, what does Star Trek have to do with Thanksgiving?” Waverly questioned.  
“I don’t know.” Charlie admitted, “But I should be the one to do the decorating because I’ve been a Hunter longer and you’re—basically the mascot.”  
Waverly just gapped for a moment then got out, “W-What does that have to do with anything?!” After a moment she added, “And I am not the mascot!” She turned towards the kitchen and said, “Sam, tell her I’m not the mascot!”  
“She’s not the mascot.” Sam said in a distracted voice before turning around, “Look, can you two just come to some sort of compromise? I kind got my hands full with this turkey.”  
Seeing her friend’s distressed, Charlie surrendered. “Alright, you deal with this while I help Sam take down the bird.”  
Charlie walked off into the kitchen and Waverly began adjusting her pumpkin.  
Just then Wynonna descended down the stairs, one of Sam’s flannel draped over her. “What the Hell is going on?”  
“Ah, it’s Thanksgiving, honey.” Sam informed her.  
“What’s-giving?” Wynonna reasoned, “And since when do you call me honey?”  
“You know, Native Americans save the pilgrims so they got along for a couple of days, had a big dinner, years later Lincoln decided to make it an official holiday?” Sam replied.  
Wynonna didn’t say anything for a moment. “Oh,” She finally said, shrugging, “Oh, I usually just get wasted today. Hey, how much booze do we got?”  
“Actually, Wynonna, this Thanksgiving might be a little different.” Sam said nervously. Suddenly he got the feeling he should have talked more with Wynonna about this first.  
Wynonna narrowed her eyes. “Sam,” She began, “What did you do?”  
“I- “Sam began.  
“It wasn’t just Sam.” Waverly cut him off, literally stepping between him and her sister, “While you were killing your liver, I usually spent Thanksgiving with Gus, and Curtis, and we usually invited Carol Anne.”  
“Carol Anne?” Wynonna repeated.  
“Yeah,” Waverly answered nervously, “You like Carol Anne, right?”  
“Who’s Carol Anne?” Charlie whispered.  
“Their cusion.” Sam whispered back.  
“Of course, I do.” Wynonna answered Waverly’s question, “Everyone likes Carol Anne. She’s like her generation’s Waverly. But did you invite Joy-Anna too?”  
“Joy-Anna?” Charlie asked.  
“Joy-Anna, Carol Anne’s daughter.” Wynonna interjected, “God knows how someone as kind and sweet as Carol Anne could create someone as utterly bitchy as Joy-Anna. I mean, she was even a bitch to Waverly. She never called her by her name, just Aunt Michele’s orphan Aunt Gus took in for some reason.’”  
“Well, Joy-Anna’s mellowed out a lot since you left.” Waverly assured her, “It turns out a teen pregnancy is very humbling.”  
Wynonna was quiet for a minute. “Teen pregnancy?”  
“Yeah, she got pregnant right after you left town.” Waverly answered, “And then the father left town.”  
“Well, why didn’t anyone call me?!” Wynonna demanded.  
“Because we didn’t think you were that into Schadenfreude.” Waverly reasoned.  
“Well, you were wrong!” Wynonna exclaimed, walking towards her sister, “I would’ve had a whole freakin’ Roman holiday off of this information!”  
“Well, we have an actual holiday to prepare for, so, think maybe you could help in here?” Sam requested.  
“Come on, Sam.” Wynonna responded, “Isn’t there just some way we can call this all off? “  
“Ah, everybody’s already coming.” Sam replied, almost apologetically, “I don’t think I can really put the Genie back in the bottle at this point.”  
Wynonna narrowed her eyes again. “And who exactly is everybody?”  
“Well,” Sam began, “There’s Gus, and I know for a fact that Gus did invite Carol Anne and Joy-Anna…for the record, I didn’t know about your issues with her at the time, okay? Other than that just Nicole from the station.”  
Waverly turned to Sam in surprise. “You did what now?”  
“Well, she’s new and town and doesn’t have any place to go.” Sam reasoned, “Look, Wy, holidays are important. And so is family, friends, the whole nine.”  
Wynonna slumped realizing there was no getting out of this. “Can we at least base the turkey with vodka?”  
This earned her three odd looks.  
“What?” Wynonna responded, “It’s a thing. I read it in magazine, once.”  
Meanwhile, a woman roughly two years younger than Wynonna was driving in a minivan, a girl of about eight in the back. Suddenly there was a poop and the car started to slowly stop. “No, no, no, no.” The woman pleaded, but the car still came to a stop. “Perfect.” The woman groaned, before turning to the girl, “Honey, stay here while Mommy tries to figure out what’s wrong, okay?”  
“Okay.” The sad, nodding.  
The woman got out of the car, bent down and saw a flat tire. “Great.” The woman hissed going to the back and raising it, only to find no spare, or even a pump. As if today couldn’t get any worst. She was being forced to face a woman that she had severely wronged on several different occasions, and now she was stranded with her daughter in the bad lands.  
She was so absorbed in her frustration that she didn’t notice a man dressed in ragged clothes watching her in a distance with a malicious gleam in his eyes. Didn’t notice as he began walking towards them.  
However, she did notice a blue truck pull up next to her with a rather familiar driver. “Joy-Anna.” Gus called out as she got out of the truck, “Joy-Anna Gibson, what are you doing out here?”  
“Flat tire. “Joy-Anna answered, “Help, please?”  
“Tell you what,” Gus said, “You get Beth-Anne out of the car, I’ll get you to the girls’ and send someone out for it, okay?”  
“Alright.” Joy-Anna agreed, opening the back door, “Come on, Bethie, we’re riding with Aunt Gus.”  
Beth-Anne unbuckled and got out. The trio got into the truck and drove away to safety just in time.


	2. A Different Kind Of Thanksgiving Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Wynonna stews in misery, an unexpected guess leads to a fight, but soon that becomes the least of their worries.

“And that’s the last of it.” Sam said, putting a pan of cornbread in the oven, “Thanks Charlie.”  
“No problem.” Charlie replied, “I’m gonna go clean up before everyone gets here, okay?”  
“Okay.” Sam said.  
Just then, Waverly came down the stairs dressed in a peach silk blouse and jeans she had actually ironed followed by Wynonna dressed in black slacks in a crisp white shirt, clearly not happy with the situation.  
“You look beautiful.” Sam said, walking over to her and kissing her on the cheek. He turned to Waverly and added, “You both do.”  
“You so owe me for this.” Wynonna grumbled.  
Just then there was a knocked on the door. “I’ll get it.” Sam said. The opened the door revealing Gus and a young woman with long wavy dirty blond hair, and little girl that looked like a clone of her mother, except her eyes were grey.   
“Hey, Gus.” Sam greeted the older woman hugging her.  
“Good to see you, Sam.” Gus replied, breaking the embrace, “This is my second cusion, Joy-Anna, Joy-Anna, this is Wynonna’s boyfriend, Sam.”  
“Nice to meet you.” Joy-Anna said shaking Sam’s hand, looking down and gently putting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, “And this is Beth-Anne.”  
“Nice to meet both of you.” Sam replied.  
It was at that point Beth-Anne noticed someone that had her much more excited, “Waverly!” She exclaimed, breaking away from her mother and darting into the house, wrapping her arms around the legs of the youngest Earp.  
“Hey there, Bethie.” Waverly beamed, hugging the girl back.  
Waverly’s friend with Joy-Anna’s spawn? Wynonna thought as the woman herself walked up to her. “Hey, Joy-Anna.” She greeted awkwardly.  
“Hey, Wynonna.” Joy-Anna said, equally awkward, “It’s been a while.”  
“Yeah, I know.” Wynonna agreed, before gesturing to Beth-Anne, “So, you had a kid.”  
“Yeah,” Joy-Anna replied, looking over to the child, “The best thing I’ve ever done.” After a moment she added. “Listen, I know that I was a bitch-on-wheels when we were kids-and I get that’s the biggest understatement of all time- “  
“A little.” Wynonna confirmed.  
“The point is, I’m sorry for all the Hell I put you and Waverly through.” Joy-Anna continued, “I know that doesn’t begin to make up for it and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just had to apologize.”  
“Wow, you’re being way too healthy about this.” Wynonna responded, actually a bit creeped out.  
Just then there another knock on the door and a woman’s voice called out, “Hello?! Anyone in here?”  
“That’s Mom.” Joy-Anna declared as Sam went to the door. When he opened it, he found a woman who had a few of Gus’ features, but longer hair, and an elderly man with graying red hair.  
“You must be George and Carol Anne.” Sam said, extending a hand to them, “I’m Sam.”  
“Please to meet you.” Carol Anne replied, shaking his hand, then her eyes landed on Wynonna, “And who is this beautiful lady?!” She beamed heading over to Wynonna and embracing her.  
Finally, someone Wynonna was happy to see. “Hi, Carol.” She said with a smile.  
“Oh, it is so good to see you, girl.” Carol Anne declared, before pulling away, still holding Wynonna’s hands in her, “How are you?”  
“I’m-I’m doing okay.” Wynonna answered.  
“Good okay or bad okay?” Carol Anne asked.  
Wynonna was saved by another knock on the door. “I’ll get it.” She said, walking pass Carol Anne and opening the door, revealing a very nervous looking Nicole Haught.  
“Hi,” Nicole said, holding up a dark-colored bottle, “I brought wine.”  
“Oh, thank God.” Wynonna responded, taking the bottle.  
The next few hours were torture for Wynonna. Not only was she forced to make awkward small talk with people she hadn’t seen in years and in some cases, didn’t even like (though they were right, Joy-Anna had become much more pleasant) they kept asking her questions. Where had she been? What was she doing now? How did she meet Sam?  
That was another thing. Everyone absolutely loved him. He was nice, polite, and charming. He even let Beth-Anne climb on him! He was being the perfect host and for some reason it annoyed Wynonna to no end.  
Then, When Wynonna was on her third glass of wine when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”   
Wynonna opened the door revealing a man in a long black coat and matching hat, smirking at her.  
“Doc?” Wynonna began, surprised a bit concerned, “What are you doing here?”  
“Miss Waverly invited me.” Doc explained.  
“Oh.” Wynonna responded.  
“So.” Doc began, “May I come in?”  
“Sure.” Wynonna replied, stepping aside for him to get in. “Look who’s here, everybody.” She was also silently thanking God that Sam was doing something in the kitchen at that particular moment and even if he wasn’t he was too hung up on this to make scene.  
“Isn’t that the jerk that accosted you?” Gus whispered over to Waverly.  
“Yeah, but we worked it out, and we’re all friends now.” Waverly explained, “Plus, it’s a holiday, and he’s all alone, I felt sorry for the guy.” Then directly at him Waverly said, “Hey, Henry!”  
“Hello, Waverly.” Doc replied, “And might I say think you so much for the invitation.”  
“No problem.” Waverly responded.  
“Waverly,” Carol Anne spoke up, “Who’s your friend here?”  
Waverly paused for a minute, trying to think of how to explain it, because, she couldn’t exactly say he was Doc Holiday, even with Gus in the know, since the others weren’t.  
“Just call me John Henry.” Doc instructed leaning down and shaking Carol Anne’s hand, “And you must be Mrs. McCreedy’s daughter.”  
Gus rolled her eyes and Carol Anne laughed, “No, I’m her cusion. “  
Wynonna joined Gus in her eyeroll. Why were all the men in her life so freaking charming?!  
“So, how do you know the girls?” George asked.  
“Oh, you could say I’m an old friend of the family.” Doc replied.  
Just then, Sam walked back in. “Thought I recognized that voice.” Sam declared somewhat tersely.  
“Waverly invited him.” Wynonna said quickly, throwing her sister under the bus. Plus, Sam wouldn’t do anything that might upset Waverly, like toss Doc out.  
“Okay then.” Sam said, quickly getting his composure back, “Welcome.”  
The next few minutes were filled with awkward, strained small talk, despite Sam’s best attempts to cover.  
“You know, if you would’ve just listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened.” Wynonna whispered in Sam’s ear at one point.  
Sam wanted to tell her that wasn’t helping, but he held his tongue, getting up and saying, “I’m gonna go see how the food’s going. It should be about ready.”  
He hurried into the kitchen, pulling out the turkey and sticking in the meat themoter. Come on Sam, He thought to himself, Pull yourself together. It’s just one meal, with one guy you don’t like. You’ve dealt with worst. He’s even kind of being on his best behavior, just a couple of covert barbs, that’s all. If he can do it, so can you. “Oh, this was not how today was supposed to go.” He added out loud.  
“And how was today supposed to go, parder?” A Georgian-accented voice asked.  
“For starters, you weren’t supposed to be here.” Sam replied.  
“Well, I almost didn’t come.” Doc admitted, “But Waverly was very insistent.”  
“Alright.” Sam conceded, “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. In the kitchen. With me. Right now.”  
“Well, I was just a little concerned, as it appears that there’s some tension between you and Wynonna.” Doc explained.  
In the living room Wynonna downed the rest of her wine, before saying, “You know, I’m gonna go check up on them.”  
“Me and Wynonna are none of your business.” Sam warned.  
“Oh, but that’s where your wrong.” Doc replied, “See, for whatever reason I seem to keep coming back to these girls, and for some reason Wynonna seems to look over some obvious flaws in you.”  
“Doc, if this is about the other day, I am not a drug addict.” Sam informed him.  
By then, Wynonna had reached the entryway, though neither man had noticed her. Why would Doc think Sam was a druggie? She thought.  
“Well, I was actually referring to the fact that you through this whole shing-dig together without consulting her and from what I can tell against her wishes.” Doc countered, “But since you brought it up…”  
That did it for Sam. Snapping, he hit Doc dead on in the face.  
“So that’s the way it’s gonna be, is it?” Doc seethed, going to attack, only to be pulled back Wynonna.  
“Doc, no.” Wynonna pleaded, “Don’t. Just—” She lowered her voice, saying, “Just give us a minute alone, let me talk to him, okay?”  
“If you think you can reason with him, be my guess.” Doc relented, walking off.  
Wynonna walked up to Sam very gingerly, “Sam, you need to calm down, okay?”  
“Did you hear what he said?” Sam asked, still enraged.  
“Yeah, I did and he was totally out of line, but you need to calm down.” Wynonna urged, “You don’t want to ruin the good impression you made today, hun, big guy?”  
Sam took a depth breathe, and it appeared that he was starting to calm down.  
It was then that Wynonna said something that, when they later told this story, everyone, including her, agreed she should have waited to say. “What is with you today, anyway? It’s not a big deal, it’s just Thanksgiving.”  
That sent Sam off the deep end. “Seriously, Wy?!” He exclaimed, “If you—” His voice trailed off, and he walked off.  
“Sam! “Wynonna called out, following him out the back way, “Sam, where are you going?!”  
“I don’t know!” Sam admitted, before slamming the door in her face.  
“Sam!” Wynonna called after him throwing open the door,” Sam!” Then she sighed hissing, “Crazy idiot,” then turned around to see a rather angry looking Charlie staring at her, “What?”  
“You’re really unbelievable, you know that, right?” Charlie responded, walking up to Wynonna, “I mean, how can someone so pretty be so stupid? Seriously, it boggles the mind.”  
“Relax, Gamer Barbie.” Wynonna responded. Seriously? What is it with everyone today?  
“Relax?!” Charlie repeated, clearly mad, “How can you not see how important this was to Sam?”  
Wynonna snorted. “It’s just some dumb holiday a racist invented.” Sam wouldn’t care too much about anything like that, by Wynonna’s reasoning. That’s why his behavior today was so baffling.  
“Sam has nobody.” Charlie retorted, “His parents are dead, his grandparents were murdered by the same demon that got them before they even got to meet, at least on his mom’s side, on his dad’s side, his grandfather traveled back in time then got his guts ripped out by yet another demon, in front of him and Dean, I might add, and—I’m actually not sure what happened to his paternal grandmother, but whatever the case, she wasn’t there. He also lost his surrogate father, and not to mention his brother. He’s never had a signal normal Thanksgiving or any other holiday for that matter and the first chance he has to have it and you piss on it!”  
Charlie’s words hit Wynonna like a ton a brick, taking her breath away for a moment, and she knew, she had screwed up. “I got to find Sam.” Wynonna said, already heading out the door, “Charlie, make sure the food doesn’t burn, tell them we had to go out for something.” She was hoping maybe she could still salvage this thing for her boy.  
Meanwhile, Sam was sitting on the ground, far away from the house, thinking. At first, he had been furious, but now a sobering thought crossed his mind. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have talked with Wynonna about this. When he was planning this, he hadn’t really talk to her. Sure, he had talked to Waverly to make sure he wasn’t hijacking their holiday, but he had just assumed Wynonna would be okay with and he shouldn’t have. He should have talked to her. That’s what a good boyfriend does. Especially when their girlfriend has a very complicated relationship with a lot of the townspeople.  
Finally, Sam knew what he had to do. He stood up dusted himself off and turned to the direction of the house to apologize to Wynonna.  
However, before he could get a few inches, somebody put a bag over his head.  
Sam struggled against, his attackers, but there was at least two of them and pretty soon they had Sam’s hands behind his back, tying them. He kicked the one at his back, hitting the groin and causing him or her to back up. Sam tried to run for it, but then he felt a dull but powerful pain of something hitting his head and he fell to the ground, slowly losing consciousness.  
Wynonna got out to where Sam had run off to just in time to find him being dropped into a rusted truck with a bent-up bed by two muscle-bound men. “Hey!” She called out before firing Peacemaker.  
She missed and they ran to the car, driving off and Wynonna continued to fire.  
Guess it’s time for another rescue mission. Wynonna thought, before turning around to get reinforcements.


	3. What's The Story, Wishbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lennie prepares a surprise for the group, Cas' phone being on silent nearly causes Dean to have nervous breakdown. And apparently, wishbones are now powerful magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I am sorry for the incredibly long hiatus. I had to write this chapter from starch, which I don't normally have to do and I've been dealing with some issues with my spiritual life, and then I got a job which I'm happy about because that's been struggle but also leaves me with less writing time. There's no excuse really, and I'm sorry.  
> Second, I would like to give special thanks to Marcus S Lazarus for this wonderful TV Tropes page : https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/ToldThatDevilToTakeYouBack God bless you.

“Bella, you’ve tried that talking board, what how many times now?” Dean asked, watching the woman knelt over a board with the receptor in her hands, “The veil clearly doesn’t know where Sam is, and if they do, they’re not talking. You’ve heard about the definition of insanity, right?” With that he took another swig of his beer.  
“Well, maybe someone’s learned something new.” Bella reasoned.  
There hadn’t been any new Resurrected since their return to the bunker, so everyone set back to the constantly interrupted task of looking for Sam. Bella was at a talking board she found at an antique shop, Dean was currently looking through every medical and mental hospital database he could access, even morgues, looking for a note of anyone who matched Sam’s description, Adam and Andy were taking the rest of the internet, while Emma and her Luddite predecessors—Henry and Mary--were combing the bunker for a location spell.  
Meanwhile, in the bunker kitchen, it’s tables and counters were suddenly covered with Sam’s Club sized blocks of salted butter, bags of all-purpose flour, a gallon of buttermilk, beads of water dripping off it, a butternut squash, canned pumpkin, a series of spices and of course, a good-sized turkey, all surrounding Lennie, who was standing at the table with a Thanksgiving edition of Southern Living.   
After all Henry and the others had done through for her, she wanted to do something to thank them. Logically, that would be helping them with the location spell, but except for a few basic spells, she really was a truly terrible witch.  
However, she was a good cook.  
Meanwhile, Dean had decided to reach out to the friends who lived more of less outside of their little microcosm, starting with a certain hunter cum werewolf. “Hey, Garth.”  
“Hey, Dean,” Garth replied, somewhat nervously, “Listen, now’s not really a good time, so unless it’s an emergency—”  
“I just wanted to see if there was any new information on Sam.” Dean requested.  
“Sorry.” Garth apologized, “Not since Salt Lake.”  
When dealing with another matter Garth had been on the phone talking with Dean about the search for the Sam, when the witch Sam had purchased the obsidian mirror from by chance overheard them. Putting it all together, she revealed what she knew, which unfortunately was not that much. Sam had, had her meet him at a neutral spot, and told her the less she knew about his reasons for purchasing the mirrors, the better off she would be. She was happy to tell Dean he was alive, though.  
“Alright, I’ll go then.” Dean responded, “Thanks anyway. Good, uh, luck with whatever it is you’re dealing with.”  
“Okay,” Lennie said, having finally figured out how to use the oven, and had set the timer for the turkey. She wasn’t sure if this was going to be dinner or lunch, but she had got it.   
The teen ran her hand over her short locks, before turning to the small bowl of warm water, yeast and sugar she had set aside. Going to the cabinets she began opening them until she found more bowls, standing on her tip toes, she grabbed a set, nearly sending them all down toppling on her head. “Ah!” She screamed, as the fell to the floor with a clang.  
In the main second of the bunker, Mary raised her head up. “What was that?”  
“Probably nothing.” Dean brushed it off, listen to the dial tone of the call his making.  
Turning from what she was doing in her own kitchen, Jody smiled at the name of the caller ID before picking up. “Hey Dean.”  
“Hey, Jody,” Dean greeted her back, “I was just calling to see if you had any more detail about where the world’s hardest-to-find giant got off to.”  
“I’m sorry, I haven’t found anything yet.” Jody answered sadly, “Nothing on anything else you warned me to look out for.”  
Just then Alex’s raised voice could be heard from the kitchen. “Claire, this is insane!”  
“Hurry up and help me before he wakes up!” Claire could be heard demanding back.  
“Claire, what are the odds of something like that happening twice?” Donna’s voice could be heard asking calmly, but exasperated. After a beat she said, “On second thought, since you’ve already done it, I’ll go get the sliver.”  
“What?!” Alex could be heard demanding.  
“Dean, hold on a minute.” Jody requested before covering up the receiver of the phone and calling out, “Hey! What’s going on in there?!”  
“Claire drugged Darren!” Alex explained, sounding at the end of her rope.  
“Just some sleeping pills!” Claire retorted, “He’ll never even know what happen! Also, good news, he’s not another vampire!”  
Jody removed her hand from the receiver and addressed Dean, “Look, Dean, I’m going to have to call you back. Claire is trying to ‘help’ Alex. In hindsight I should have known something was up when she offered Darren a glass of tea. I need to stop a murder from happening in my own home.”  
“Alright.” Dean agreed, leaving Jody to her semi domestic issues, “Good luck with that.”  
“Everything okay?” Adam asked as Dean hung up, noticing Dean seemed a little tense.  
“Yeah, just another dead end.” Dean admitted, picking up his beer, “Also, I think I just heard a felony being committed.” He took a swing of his beer when it occurred to him, “Hey, has anybody seen Cas?”  
Mary’s head popped out from the stacks. “I think he went to check on Ida Maire.”  
“What?” Dean and Henry asked at the same time, Dean sounded baffled, Henry sounded horrified.  
“Henry, he’s fine.” Dean assured him, “I mean, is it annoying, him bailing on us, yeah, but---”  
“Dean, I don’t think you understand.” Henry cut him off, “For all their pomp and circumstance the British Men of Letters are barely above feral animals, worse than the monsters they claim to protect people from. At nineteen, your Ida Marie has killed serval of her peers, and ---I grant you, the American chapter wouldn’t exactly be jumping for joy over your friendship with a supernatural creature, but the Brits---she’d probably used his fondness for her to either lure him to his doom, or a fate worse than death, considering how rare it is to encounter an actual angel. Or how rare it was, rather.”  
“Well she did once think he was your pet.” Bella pointed out. She tried to sound unconcerned, but her eyes looked a little worried.  
Dean paused for a moment, eyes going around the room, wanting to tell Henry he was worried for nothing, but then he thought back to the incident Bella was talking about, his own warnings to the angel not to wind up on the wrong end of a vivisection, and what Toni and her henchwoman had done to Emma who---to their knowledge at least---was an innocent human girl, Dean stood up saying, “We’ll take my car.”  
“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Mary protested, stepping in front of the Winchester men, “Don’t you think we’re jumping the gun here? I mean, apart from the organization she was born into, she hasn’t given us a reason to doubt her. Dean, why don’t you just---call Cas, see if he picks up, and if he doesn’t or if he does and he’s in trouble—we’ll send in the Calvary.”  
Suddenly Dean remembered something he had done a while back. “Actually, I think I have a compromise.”  
Meanwhile, across town, Ida Marie was on the phone with Mick trying to find out if he had any leads on Sam.  
“Nothing.” Mick way saying, “Not a single trace. It’s as if he’s fallen off the face of the earth and between you and me Miss Ketch, I’m starting to get frustrated. It should not be this hard to find one man.”  
“You’re not the only one.” Ida Marie told him, putting pellets in Algernon’s cage, balancing the phone on her shoulder, “I think Dean Winchester’s getting a bit antsy.” She shut the hatch and picked up the phone again.  
“Are we going to have a problem from him?” Mick asked.  
There might have already been. Ida Marie thought, but out loud, said, “No, sir.” Apart from her fear from the Winchesters (and their allies) if her people thought there was an issue, she didn’t want them to think she couldn’t handle it. Just then there was a knock at the door. “Sorry, someone’s at the door. I’ll report back in later.”  
“See that you do.” Mick requested.  
“Coming!” Ida Maire called out, running to the door. She opened it, revealing a certain trench-coated angel, holding a shopping bag. “Castiel.” Ida Maire greeted him, slightly thrown by his appearance, “Has something happened?”  
“No.” Cas assured her, “What about you? I tried to call, but I couldn’t get an answer.”  
“I was on the phone with Mr. Davies, I must have not heard the incoming call alert.” Ida Marie explained, “Would you like to come in?”  
“Sure.” Cas replied, stepping in when she gave him the room to.  
“Sit down.” Ida Marie offered gesturing to the couch, “Do you want anything? I have some coffee on. I mean, I know you don’t actually drink, but I don’t know if you…”  
“I do sometimes, but right now I’m fine.” Castiel assured, “I, ah, I got you something.” He pulled out a red box from the plastic bag he was holding sat a red box down on the counter.  
Ida Marie’s eyes widened. “You found Digestives?” She had mentioned almost in passing that she missed the cookies and she couldn’t find them here in the states. She couldn’t believe he even remembered, let alone went out and found them for her, especially when they had bigger issues going on right now.  
“Orange chocolate ones are your favorite, right?” Cas responded.  
“Yes.” Ida Marie said, sitting down to the counter and picking up the package, “How did you get these? Did your—did you get your wings back or something?”  
“No.” Cas answered, “There are these things called ethnic food sections at most stores that sale food, which, in America, you might realize, British food counts as.”  
Ida Marie laughed at his snark and her own silliness, struggling to get to wrapper open.  
“Ida, do you need—” Cas began to offer.  
“No, I can do it.” Ida Marie assured him, “You were saying?”  
“Well, finding them still wasn’t easy.” Cas continued, “I had to broch the subject with Bella without revealing why, and then I still had to go to three different stores before I found orange chocolate.”  
“Oh, I would’ve been happy with just plain.” Ida Marie told him, finally getting the package open putting the cookie in her mouth, orange and milk chocolate filling her buds and tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m nearly crying over a biscuit.”  
“Sometimes little things can do that to you.” Cas told her gently, “Especially if your home sick.”  
It suddenly hit her that he was right. She was alone, in a strange country working among people who at best didn’t think much of her. Even though she didn’t have much back in London, the situation sometimes made her long for home. “Do you ever—”  
“I use too.” Cas admitted, “Back during the early days, back during the first time I fell, and before that when I was merely stationed on Earth. Not so much anymore.”  
“What changed?” Ida Marie asked.  
“Well, I guess now, home did.” Cas answered.  
Ida Marie paused, thinking on that for a moment, pondering this, getting her bearings back, then offered, “Would you like to sit down? I mean….”  
“Of course.” Castiel agreed, sitting down on the couch. Looking at the hamster nibbling at the troth, he began, “Is this, uh….”  
“Algernon.” Ida Maire told introduced, “My pet from back home. My dad dropped him off a few weeks ago after he was stationed in the states.”  
Cas bristled at the thought of Ida Marie’s so-called father. “Ida, are you—are you okay?”  
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Ida Maire asked before stuffing another biscuit in her mouth, “Do you want….”  
“I’m fine.” Castiel told her, “With everything and you father’s unexpected visit last week….at least it didn’t seem like you expected it….”  
“I did not.” Ida Marie admitted.  
“I’m just…. Worried about you.” Cas finished.  
“It’s fine, really.” Ida Maire insisted, “In spite of what you saw, we actually have a good relationship. Well, for the most part. It’s complicated, okay?”  
Meanwhile, back at the bunker, Dean was on his laptop, looking at the location of Cas’ cell phone.  
“You put a tracker on your best friend’s phone?” Mary was asking somewhat incredulously, both because this was yet another technological culture shock, and because it seemed like a serious boundary issue.  
“Look, Cas has a history of getting himself into all sorts of trouble when left to his own devices, and half the time that trouble eventually has earth shattering consequences.” Dean explained, “I had this installed so if he was ever snatched or fell into bad influences, or was snatched by bad influences, we could find him.” After a beat he added, “In hindsight, maybe I should’ve put a tracker on Sam’s phone.”  
“Still, this seems like a major bountry violation—” Andy began, thinking the same thing as Mary.  
“I got it.” Dean declared, “He’s…at some hotel in town.” His face contorted in a look of confusion, “Why would he be there?”  
“Maybe it’s where Ida Marie’s staying.” Mary suggested, “Remember, he took her home after found Henry.”   
Seeing Dean was still tense, Bella leaned in, putting her hands on his shoulders. “See? Safe and sound. No need to worry.”  
“Yes, because of course they wouldn’t leave his phone which you could track behind.” Henry snarked.  
“Henry, you’ve not helping.” Mary told him.  
“Alright, that’s it, I’m going to call him, put an end to this once and for all.” Dean declared, pulling out his own cell phone and hit the speed dial. He listened to the dial tone then Cas’ voice began, “This is my voicemail…”   
Dean hung up and tried again. Then again. Nothing. Trying again, images starting fluttering in his mind’s eyes of Cas struggles against warded chains on a cold metal slab, trembling, screaming with pain and terror as he poked and prodded, cut open….  
Suddenly Dean’s heart was beating so fast he felt like it would bust out of his chest like the creatures from the Alien and he was hyperventilating. His body started going numb and he breathed even faster, desperately trying to get air, but finding it even harder to do so.  
That was when Bella leaped in front of his, hands firmly on his shoulders. “Dean, you’re having a panic attack. You need to calm down. Just—copy my breathing.” She began to breathe in and out slowly.  
Dean copied the breathing, managing to calm down in spite of the pit still in his stomach, as his breathing became regular.  
“Okay,” Bella began, “Now, we’re going to go to that hotel and we’re going to get to the bottom of this, okay?”  
Dean was already up, the others hot on his heals.  
Meanwhile, unaware that any of this was going on, she was lost in her domestic indevours, Lennie was putting the last folded dough circle on the baking sheet. She had two sheets, all covered with flat biscuits, ready for baking at moments notice. Dipping a brush, she managed to scround up into a bowl of melted butter she brushed the biscuits with it just as the bell rung. With the turkey still cooking, she could only fit one pan in the oven. Setting the other aside, she turned her attention to the pie.   
The pie crush, though uncooked was prepared in rolled into a metal pie plate. She couldn’t find a glass one like recommended in the recipe, so she was improvising. She took the strips she had prepared, taking a moment to wash out the brush she had used on the biscuits, m brushing a litter water around the entire edge of the crust. She was gently weaving the braided crush when the timer went off, indicating that the vanilla bean custard sauce was done. She whirled around, removing it from the heat, and poured through the colander she was suing in place of wire mesh strainer, into a bowl, then put to the side, turning her attention back to the pie.   
Dean was driving way over the speed limit, as Mary tried getting their missing angel on her phone to no avail. “Anything?” Dean asked, tensely.  
“Nothing.” Mary answered.  
Dean whirled into parking space at the hotel, pouring out with Mary and Henry in tow, marching into the lobby up to the front desk, where consequentially, the same desk attendant who had given Castiel the third degree a week ago. “Hey,” Dean said, pulling up a picture of Cas and thrusting it into the young man’s face. “Hey. You’ve seen this guy?”  
The man paused, recognizing the man he had let up, but the intensity of the man in front of him sending off alarms, causing him not to not want to give up the information, lest he become one of those idiots on the true crime show that everyone asks ‘what the Hell were they thinking?!’  
“Hey!” Dean snapped, “I asked you a question!”  
That was when Mary stepped in front of her oldest and took over. “Please, it’s very urgent. “She pulled out her FBI badge and slid it over to the attendant.  
The attendant just slid the key over to them. “Jane Gray, 408.”  
“Your middle name is what?” Cas asked, having heard it, but not believing it. He also wasn’t sure how they go unto the topic of middle names.  
“Desdemona.” Ida Marie repeated, laughing a little “It’s awful, I know. But it was my mother’s name first, so, I kind of don’t mind it.”  
Suddenly it hit Castiel. “That’s the first time I think I’ve heard you mentioned your mother.”  
“Well, “Ida Maire said, looking down, “She died when I was four. I don’t remember her much, and Dad never liked to talk about her. Whenever I asked about her, he—well, he wouldn’t tell me anything. I really don’t know what much about her. I’m not even sure how she died, he told me something different just about every time I asked. Her name was Desdemona Taylor, we kind of look alike, from the pictures I’ve seen, that’s really all I know.”  
Cas felt his heart breaking once again for her. “I’m so sorry, Ida.”  
“Don’t be.” Ida Marie requested, “Please don’t. It’s not like it’s your fault, you didn’t kill her, did you?” After a beat she repeated softer, more seriously, as if she scared of the answer, “Did you?”  
Cas shook his head. “No. No, I never even heard of her until today.”  
The air was tense for a moment, then Ida Marie spoke nervously. “Sorry.” She let out an uneasy chuckle, “There I go again.”  
“I’ve heard worst.” Cas assured her.  
Just then the door burst opened, Dean in the lead, gun aimed and ready.  
“Dean!” Cas exclaimed, standing up, “What are you doing?”  
It was then that Dean realized the angel was there. “Are you alright?” He asked, running for him, “Did she hurt you?”  
“Did she—” Cas began, “Of course, she didn’t.”  
Dean pulled Castiel into an embrace, holding him there for a minute before getting angry, pulling away. “Why they Hell didn’t you answer your phone, Cas?! Both Mom and I have been calling you for the last ten minutes!”  
Cas pulled his phone out of his pocket. “It looks like it somehow got on silent.” He adjusted the phone, then looked at Dean. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to worry you.”  
“Well, you did!” Dean exclaimed, “I thought—I thought—” He thought he had lost Cas. He had no clue where Sam was, wherever he was Sam probably thought he was dead, and for a few terrifying minutes he thought he had lost his adopted brother on top of that.   
This time, Cas pulled Dean into an embrace. “I know, Dean. I know.” He released him from the hold, then turned to Ida Marie, “Ida, I think I need to get him home. I’ll—come back later to see about any damage to the door.”  
“It’s okay.” Ida Maire assured him, “Do what you have to do.”  
The ride back to the bunker was quiet. Dean just sat there, in a haze, and then when they got back, walked off before anyone could day anything to him.   
He was just sitting in the stacks when Bella came in. “Hey,” She said gently, walking up to him, “So, I heard you got a little excited out there. Want to talk about it?”  
“Not particularly.” Dean replied.  
Bella sat down across from Dean anyway.  
“Ah, what are you doing?” Dean questioned.  
“Even if you don’t want to talk, I –I can’t leave you like this.” Bella explained.  
“Like what?” Dean responded.  
“Dean, you had a panic attack, scared an innocent desk man half to death, nearly broke a hotel room door, and then nearly had a nervous breakdown in your best friend’s arms, because he didn’t answer his phone.” Bella recapped, “You’ve basically had a small-scale tailspin today.”  
Dean raised his head up. “Why do you care, Bells?” After a beat he added, “I’m sorry, that—that came out wrong. I mean, why are you sticking around here, helping us? I mean, I don’t know if you remember, but we weren’t exactly friends the last time around.”  
“You’re deflecting.” Bella told him, not giving in.  
“It’s still a valid question.” Dean pointed out.  
Alright, fair enough. Bella thought, saying aloud, “I stuck around partly because, well frankly, I have no where else to go. I’ve been dead for just a little under the decade, half my contacts and buyers have moved, been arrested, died, or have no interest in engaging with business with me, pratically every artifact, weapon, or anything else I had has been looted or disappeared into the great unknown, I’ve only been able to retrieve a very small faction of my savings for the same reason, my apartment in Queens is now owned by some Carrie Bradshaw wannabe, the world’s move on in general, and well, you know the story with my family. Even my cat has a new mum.” She looked down, adding, “And ah, I know I messed things up the first. I did, so many awful things. Some you know about, some you don’t. Now I got a second chance, and I want to get it right this time. Or at the very least, less wrong.”  
“Wow, that’s --- deeper than I expected.” Dean told her, “You’re officially making me uncomfortable.”  
“Sorry to make you uneasy.” Bella snarked, then got serious again, “Dean—”  
“I don’t want to talk about it, Bella.” Dean replied, “Please. It’s not some big phycological mystery. I just thought my breast friend was in danger, and I—and I—” Dean rubbed his face as the tears came to the surface, “I thought I lost him today. I thought a lost another one. “  
Bella reached out and took his hand. “We’re going to get Sam back, Dean.”  
“Will we, Bella?!” Dean challenged, “Because it’s been month and except for a raid on his closet and the testimony of dive waitress—” He started to break down again. “Why do these random people show up but we can’t manage to find Sam?”  
Bella leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t know Dean; I wish I could tell you.” She just held him like that for a moment and then she pulled back, just staring at him. And he started back. Before either of them knew it, their lips were gently touching in a chase kiss. Realizing what was happening, Bella pulled back. “I’m so sorry. “She told him, “I don’t know what came over me, I—”  
“Bells, it’s okay.” Dean assured her, “Not like I didn’t kiss you back.”  
“But—you’re in a really dark place, you were starting to cry for crying out loud, I took unfair advantage of you---” Bella rambled.  
“Bella, Bella, it’s okay.” Dean insisted, “I don’t feel like you too advantage of me. And hey, we stopped before we got any further.”  
That was when Mary came into view. “Stopped before what?”  
Both Dean and Bella jumped up. “Nothing.” Dean lied, before clearing his throat. Sincerely hopping his mother hadn’t been there that long, he asked, “Um, did you need something?”  
“Lennie made a little gift for us.” Mary explained, “Come see.”  
Mary lead them into the kitchen that was now covered with flour and sugar, smears of eggs and butter, drops of buttermilk, the sink filled with dirty dishes that also dotted the counter. However, on the table was a crisp golden turkey, a tray of poufy biscuits and pie filled with yellow custard, a bowl of creamy white sauce off to the side.  
“What did you do to our kitchen?” Dean balked, missing the headline.  
“Ah, Dean,” Mary began, pointing to the table laden with food.  
Dean’s eyes landed on it. “Oh.” Then he turned his head to look at Lennie. “Wait, you did this?”  
“I’m better at cooking then I am at spells.” Lennie explained, “Hopefully.”  
Touched by the gesture, and yes, seeing the Cushaw Pie, said, “Only one way to find out”  
That was when they were knocking from the outside. “I’ll get it.” Castiel offered walking off.  
Cas opened the door and found Ida Maire nervously rocking on her heels, stopping when she saw him.  
“Ida?” Cas asked, surprised to see her after the day’s debacle.   
“Sorry, I know this is unexpected, but ironically, no one was answering their phones, and I was just worried about Dean after what…happened earlier.” Ida Marie nervously not out.   
“He’s reasonable recovered.” Castiel assured her, “There’s pie now, so that should probably help. Maybe.” Then suddenly he got an idea. He leaned back, calling, “Hey! Is there room for one more?!”  
In spite of everything the food was actually pretty good. It was tense for a few moments, then everyone started to loosen up, talking and laughing and was actually a welcome retreat from the intensity of the day.  
Before they cut the pie, Mary, who was sat next to Dean, held out the wishbone to her son. “Break this with me?”  
Dean stared at her a minute? “Do you actually believe that thing grants wishes?”   
“Couldn’t hurt.” Mary reasoned.  
Dean took the bone and they paused a moment, before silently breaking it. “So, what did you wish for?” Dean asked.  
“Probably the same thing you did.” Mary replied.  
After the dinner, as some of the others helped with the kitchen clean up, Bella knelt in front of the talking, hopping against hope that the thirteenth time would be the charm. “I call upon the spirits from the other side for any information on Samuel William Winchester, hunters, the kind that hunts monsters, not animals. A few of you might have been sent to the places you currently are by him, or at least he was there when you died. In that case, his brother might have been with him, but we know where he is. I just really, really want Sam’s location.” After a moment, she entreated, “Please. We’re desperate here. I beg you.”   
That was when the triangle slowly began to move.  
Five minutes, later, Bella ran into the kitchen, barely able to contain herself, “I know where Sam is!”  
Everybody turned to look at her. “What?” Dean asked in astonishment and hope.  
“Okay, so I decided to try the talking board one more time.” Bella explained, “And someone reached out to me. Apparently, he was possessed by Revenant and Sam killed him so Wynonna wouldn’t have to.”  
“Wynonna?” Mary repeated, having no clue who that was.  
“Okay, Shorty was a little fuzzy on the details, but apparently she’s cursed, she has to kill a bunch Revenants, as her dad before her tried and failed, along with at least four other generations of her family. “Bella recapped, “Apparently Sam’s helping her.”  
“That explains the girl everyone’s been seeing.” Mary concluded.  
“Do you have a location?” Emma asked, hopefully.  
“This town just over the Canadian border in Ghost River County.” Bella answered breathlessly, “Purgatory.”  
Dean and Mary exchanged looks as Dean breathe a sigh of relief. They were finally getting Sam back. “Mom, pack your bags.” Dean told her, “We’re going to Purgatory.” A sentence he never thought he’d been happy to say. “And then we’re stocking up on wishbones, because apparently those things are powerful.”


End file.
